


Cream, Sugar, but no Caffeine

by Doctoring



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, At least there's Pie, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Slice of Life, caught in a lie, hey that rhymed, writersmonth2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 21:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20088868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctoring/pseuds/Doctoring
Summary: Bitty has recently been hired at a coffee shop, but not as a barista. He’s the baker. However, his favorite regular customer, a hockey player named Jack, doesn’t need to know that. He can’t know that.Especially since Jack only goes there for the coffee, not the sweets.And especially since Eric can’t make a decent cup of coffee to save his life.Written for Writer’s Month. Setting Prompt: coffee shop AU





	Cream, Sugar, but no Caffeine

Eric puts on the neon green apron, a bit miffed at how it clashes with his complexion. But once he looks up and sees all the baking equipment, he decides it’s a fair trade.

“Free reign, as long as I wear this god-awful color.”

“And a hairnet!” His boss chimes in, tossing one to him.

Eric grumbles and twirls the hairnet on his finger. _They better have unlimited baking supplies if I have to don a hairnet the entire time at work._

The clock chimes, indicating it is time to open. The boss and Eric’s coworkers all go to the front of the store, leaving Eric behind in the kitchen area.

He has recently been hired at this coffee shop, but not as a barista. He’s the new head baker. Well, only baker, since all the other bakers had quit or graduated recently. So now he has to do the job of all of them.

Eric gets to work.

Since he’s only working part time, he’s not coming in everyday, so he can’t bake fresh goods every day. But he already has a list in his head of baked goods he can chill or freeze, so someone else can pop it into the oven on one of his days off.

But before he can get to that, he has to get through today’s bakes.

_But what to bake first?_

“Eric. Hairnet. _NOW._”

Eric rolls his eyes, flattening his hair under that dreaded hairnet.

_This calls for pie._

. . . . . . . .

Eric has been working there for over three weeks when he noticed a pattern.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, around 10:30 in the morning, all the baristas would scramble to the front, making such a commotion. He can hear them talking loudly and giggling. If there were more voices, he’d assume it was the lunch rush. And Tuesdays were the worse of the two. The noise would get so loud, Eric could hardly think.

This particular Tuesday, the commotion started a bit earlier. A barista runs into the kitchen and attempts to open the oven. Eric slams it shut.

“Ransom wanted a cinnamon roll,” she says sheepishly.

“What? Ransom? Who’s trying to ransom a freakin’ cinnamon roll?”

The barista rolled her eyes. “Ransom. It’s a nickname. He’s one of our hockey players.”

Eric made a small ‘Oh’ sound but was otherwise not impressed. He didn’t really follow hockey, not growing up in Georgia as the son of a football coach.

“So… can he get one?”

Eric just stares at her.

“C’mon. They come here every week, and Ransom really wants the cinnamon roll. He said they’re better than they were last semester.

_Of course they are, but sucking up won’t work._

Eric checks the time. “When they’re done, he can have one.”

The barista leaves and returns a few moments later, saying, “He wants to speak with you.”

Eric felt his heart drop, assuming he was getting in trouble with the boss. He walks to the front of the shop and freezes.

“Is that him!? Is he the cinnamon roll police?”

There are three tall, built men standing near the counter, one practically laying on it, and they’re all smiling at him. Eric quickly snatches off his hairnet and tries his best to fluff up his hair again. He removes the neon green apron as he steps towards the counter.

“And how exactly am I the cinnamon roll police?”

“Well, apparently you’re holding back the cinnamon rolls from my buddy here,” A tall blonde says while patting the back of the guy stretched out over the counter in what Eric assumes is defeat.

“I’m more of a raw-dough police than a cinnamon roll police.”

The guy stares at him for a moment before he understands. “Oh… so they’re not done?” He then turns to the barista and says, “Dude! You said he was holding back, not that they were still cooking! Now we look like greedy jackasses!”

Eric shakes his head and checks the time. “Maybe done now… but we still got to let them cool a little before icing them.”

The one Eric believes to be called ‘Ransom’ picks up his head. “I’m fine with no icing. Or icing on the side. I don’t care. I just need cinnamony goodness to counter this crap day.”

“It’s barely even 10:30, Rans,” the long-haired guy to the side says.

“I KNOW. THAT’S WHAT MAKES IT EVEN CRAPPIER THAN USUAL.”

Eric recognizes the signs of distress in Ransom’s face, he himself feeling exactly like that last semester. He goes to the back and pulls out the tray of cinnamon rolls.

Before he does anything else, he leans on the counter and catches his breath.

_Lord. No wonder there’s all that commotion at this time every week. I should probably start paying more attention to Hockey._

He pulls out the fluffiest looking cinnamon roll and places it on a plate. He peeks back out into the main area and sees Ransom and his blonde friend leaning dangerously over the counter, looking at him pleadingly. He quickly hides in the kitchen again, clutching his heart.

_Be still, be still. It’s just a bunch of boys. A bunch of _fine_-looking boys. Gracious. If they really are regulars, I’d be tempted to go out there and join in on the commotions each week. Very. Tempted._

He then dollops icing right now top of the cinnamon roll, where it immediately starts to melt due to the extreme heat. He adds another dollop to the side, hoping that sugar might help calm the poor, destressed boy.

He hears the bell on the door chime, quickly followed by another commotion, as if everyone suddenly decided to cheer all at once. He ignores it and grabs a napkin and fork.

He carefully brings the cinnamon roll to Ransom, who thanks him numerous times. Eric is taken back a little by the way he just grabs the cinnamon roll and takes a large, messy bite, ignoring the fork completely.

“Hey, you new here?”

Eric turns to the sound and finds the need to brace himself against the counter. The three hockey players were bad enough, but this new guy really takes the cake.

“Um, yes, sorta. Been here nearly a month.”

“Huh, guess you usually work when we’re not here,” the new one says, gesturing to the other fine specimens around him.

_Of freaking course he’s in league with them. I seriously need to follow hockey now._

The newest distraction reaches over the counter and shakes Eric’s hand. “I’m Jack.”

“Eric. I’m Eric Bittle.”

And when Jack smiles at him, Eric knew, _It’s no longer a temptation to come out to the front of the store every week… it’s a NEED._

“Ransom,” the boy eating the cinnamon roll said, holding up the last bite in his hand.

“Holster,” said the blonde boy. He reached over to shake Eric’s hand, prompting Eric to realize that he should probably let go of Jack’s hand now.

“Shitty,” said the long-haired boy.

“Excuse you?”

He laughed. “They call me Shitty. It’s my hockey name.”

“Are all hockey names this… unusual?”

Holster and Shitty laugh, nodding. Shitty turns to the boss, “Mind if we take your boy for a moment and educate him?”

Eric soon found himself sitting in one of the two only booths in the whole store surrounded by all the hockey players.

His boss and a different barista come over and served them coffee and sweets, apparently familiar with each boy’s usual order. Eric relishes the fact that each of the buff boys enjoy his bakes goods to the point of silent admiration, only making sounds of delight as they chew.

Everyone except Jack, who only sips on his coffee, though he is eyeing the sweets quite fiercely.

His boss brings him a cup of coffee, one overloaded with Irish cream and sugar, the only way Eric will drink it. The boss makes a comment that Jack like his coffee the same way, “but with the taste of coffee still there.”

Eric makes a mental note of that, hoping he can remember it by next Tuesday, and have a cup ready for him. Although, he soon realizes this is a bad idea, since he isn’t a fan of coffee. He realizes he probably can’t make the coffee the way Jack likes since he can’t even make it for himself. It’s always too bitter or just a really warm, milky, sweet drink. No middle.

Eventually, Shitty washes down his chocolate chunk cookie with a gulp of coffee and begins explaining how hockey names work.

They toy with different versions of hockey names for Eric, all of them sounding terrible, until Holster asks, “What did you say your last name was again?”

As soon as Eric replies, Jack immediately responds with “Bitty. That’s your hockey name now.”

“Hey, where’s his name tag? I thought all people working in the front had to wear name tags?” Shitty called out to Bitty’s coworkers.

“Oh… Actually, Eric works in the-”

“Well, wherever the name tag is, you need to change his name to ‘Bitty,’ you hear?”

Eric watches the way Jack smiled over his cup of coffee and realizes that he still hasn’t taken any sweets. He wonders about this long after the boys leave for class.

. . . . . . .

That Thursday, Eric peeks out from the kitchen just before 10:30. He sees his boss making a cup of coffee, even though no one has made an order. As soon as he sets it on the counter and starts making another, Jack and Shitty walk in.

Eric quickly removes his hairnet and apron before walking towards the counter. “Only half the crew today?”

“Hey Bitty!” Shitty says to him, picking up the cup of coffee and sniffing it, before handing it to Jack. “No, they got some lab class or something on Thursdays, so it’s only us.”

_That explains the differences in commotion… and now I know Jack is here twice a week, at least._

Jack pays for his cup, as Shitty looks into the display shelf of baked goods.

“Just get the damn chocolate chunk cookie like you always do,” Eric’s boss says.

“Hey now, you never know, maybe I’d like to try something new.”

“You like strawberries?” Eric said, already heading for the display cabinet.

“Yeah, man!”

“Strawberry cream pie”

Eric says, pulling out a slice and plating it for Shitty.

“I’mma trust you man, only because they all look too good to pick.”

Eric hears the egg timer in the kitchen go off, so he hurries back to check on the tart he was making. He then remembers the dough chilling in the fridge, realizing he needs to get a new bath of cookies in the oven fast, to complete a custom order to be picked up fairly soon. By the time he had another lull in baking, he made it back into the kitchen to see the boys leave.

Eric slumped his shoulders and pouted in the doorway to the kitchen.

He then stumbles forward when his Boss slaps him across the back. “Perk up, dude. Shits said the pie tasted of summer and heaven. Almost verbatim. Just a lot of profanity and chewing sounds in between.”

Eric feels himself blushing, and knows it will get worse, but he has no choice but to ask. “So does Jack never get any dessert?”

The boss scratches his chin in thought. “Nah. I think maybe once or twice before, but he’s not one for sweets. Too strict of a diet, if you ask me. He only comes for coffee. The same kind, twice a week.”

_Well, darn. Guess I can’t get to know him through pie… and I can’t let him know I’m just a baker…_

That evening, Bitty comes up with a plan to get to know Jack better.

. . . . . . .

Every Tuesday and Thursday for the next month and a half, Bitty makes sure there are no baking needs to be tended to from 10:20-11:10. He needs to be completely free to chat with the hockey team.

He also needs to find a way to help his coworkers serve the rowdy boys, while appearing like he’s the one who made the coffee and is therefore serving it.

All the while, he gets to know the boys better and tries to make desserts especially for them. His main focus is Jack though, trying to make a dessert that will force him to admit defeat and partake in it, but so far, no luck.

However, his number one aim, above tempting Jack’s sweet tooth and getting to know the boy better, is to not let Jack know that he cannot make coffee to save his life since he’s just the baker. If that were to happen, he would lose all reasons to interact with him, and his entire plan would be ruined.

And with each passing week, and Jack’s compliments on the coffee, Bitty has to become more cemented into his lies.

This is all working out so far.

Bitty has gotten to know Jack better, and they’ve been flirting a bit.

Well, Eric has. Jack just seems to be super friendly, but Eric is going to call it flirting because he doesn’t see him talking that way to the other hockey players or baristas.

One Thursday, when Eric is sitting with Jack and Shitty, Jack laughs at a joke Bitty made and lays his hand on top of his at the table. He moves it rather quickly when Shitty falls against him in a fit of laughter. But that brief second of contact and hearing Jack laugh had done Bitty in.

_I felt so awful about lying and deceiving him at times, but this plan is really working out! As long as there are no-_

“Hey, Eric, mind watching the store for a minute?” His boss shouts.

“W-w-what? Me? What about-”

Eric sees his boss ushering the only other barista in the store, towards the kitchen. Eric hears a sob and runs towards them.

“She just got a call about her grandmother, so I’m going to take her home. It’ll be quicker and more private than the bus. I’ll be back before the lunch rush, no worries!”

Eric couldn’t protest, not against a grandma-emergency.

He stands there, unsure of what all went into minding the store, since he’s only experience of the store was the kitchen, display cabinet, and those brief moments with the hockey boys.

He spins around to see how many customers are currently in the store and jumps when he comes face to face with Jack’s torso.

“Sorry about that,” Jack says, clamping a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“You need something?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes, everything fine, he just had to run an errand.”

“Ah… okay… well, do you mind getting me a refill?” he said, winking.

Bitty had no time to go through his usual micro-analysis of ‘Is this Jack flirting?’ Not when Jack had asked for the impossible.

A cup of coffee.

Made by Bitty.

Eric nods, and heads behind the counter to attempt to make the coffee. He tries to remember those times he watched his boss make Jack a cup, and those times he made Bitty a cup.

_He said it’s like mine, but you can still taste the coffee… so maybe just… small amounts of cream and sugar? Or is it a darker roast? Doesn’t darker roast mean a more coffee-tasting coffee? DOES THAT EVEN MAKE SENSE!?_

Bitty makes a cup, but looking at it, decides it’s wrong, based on the brighter color. _Jack’s cup is always darker than this._

He tries to make another cup, but it still doesn’t look right. However, he’s been taking way too long on this refill, so he hands the cup to Jack.

Jack is holding out his credit card, but Bitty pushes it back towards him.

“Don’t worry about that. It’s on the house.” _Only because it’ll probably taste like tar with a bit of cream and sugar sprinkled on top._

Jack smiles at him and says, “Thanks, Bits.”

Eric felt his face flush. _Don’t get all fluttery just because he gave your nickname a nickname._

This joyous feeling was short lived, though, when Jack turned from the counter while taking a sip.

He’s seen Jack grimace before, but not like this. This wasn’t a slight grimace that escaped on someone who always had a stoic face, like Jack. This was a grimace so severe Jack lost all control of the muscles in his face, eliciting a small sound of disgust.

“Hey, man… we should probably go,” Jack says to Shitty.

Bitty steps back slowly, wanting to hide in the kitchen, as he watches Jack walk slowly to the door, following Shitty. Jack takes another sip and grimaces again. He then sees Jack freeze, right in front of the door.

_I’ve done it. I’ve broken him. He can’t even move now, the coffee is just that bad._

However, Jack does move, after a moment, and walks out the door without another word.

. . . . . . .

Friday, Bitty gets called into work, since they’re short staffed. Even though he’s not a barista, just doing the dishes, cleaning, and heating up the ready-made baked goods would help the team out tremendously.

He feels sick to his stomach walking into the coffee shop. He had spent the last half of his shift yesterday, and all morning since he got the call, thinking about Jack.

_Jack clearly left the store because of the coffee._

_It was just that bad. He sounded disgusted by it and had to leave because I can’t make a damn cup of coffee. Oh, why did I tried to make it look like I was a barista? I should have just come out right and told him I’m the only one in the coffee shop who can’t make a decent cup of coffee!_

He spends the first hour of his shift baking and cleaning as a front to his planning. He had to think of a way to get Jack’s attention on Tuesday, _provided he comes back_, and make things right.

As Bitty is restocking cookies into the display case of baked goods, he hears a familiar voice say, “You made those?”

Bitty almost drops the entire tray. He grasps the edge of the display shelf to steady himself as he attempts to regulate his breathing.

_It would be _amazing_ if a meteorite would come down and end me now._

Bitty looks up and slowly nods, not ready for what was to happen next, not ready for Jack to be here five days early.

“That makes sense now,” Jack says, pointing to a sign by the front door.

Bitty can’t see it very well from where he’s standing, and he’s never really examined the front of the store. He only briefly saw it when he applied for the job, noting the cluttered notice board and random knickknacks in the front window. Besides, he basically lives in that kitchen, so he’s quite unfamiliar with the store front.

So, he hesitantly walks out of the counter area, towards Jack. He’s more shocked by the sign than by hearing Jack’s voice on a Friday.

It’s a small chalkboard with “Employee of the Week” written at the top.

Bitty’s picture, one obviously printed from his Instagram account, is hanging by a bulldog clip.

To the side it reads: Eric “Bitty” Bittle, Expert Baker

Just below that it reads: For single-handedly doubling baked good sales with his baking wizardry.

Bitty only takes a second to note which barista, a particular Harry Potter fan, would write “wizardry” to describe his baking talent. However, all his other thoughts revolved around his secret being exposed to Jack.

“You only bake, right, none of the coffee stuff?”

Bitty turns towards Jack, relieved that he doesn’t look angry, just worried. He nods.

“Guess that explains the awful cup of coffee, eh.”

Bitty laughs uncomfortably.

Jack walks towards the display shelf of baked goods, bending over to get a better look.

If it wasn’t for the trauma of the past 24 hours, Bitty would be thank God and Beyonce for the better look he was getting himself right now.

He watches as Jack eyes the desserts with more of a determined face than ever before. Jack is humming to himself while drumming his fingertips on the glass.

“So you really made all of these?”

“Y-yes… I did…”

“Guess you’re good with stuff like cream and sugar but-”

“Not the actual coffee-portion of coffee, no,” Eric finished for him. “Not a fan of caffeine, so I never really bothered.”

Jack nods and glances back at the display shelf, “So you just normally stay in the back and follow whatever recipes they ask of you for that day?”

“Yes and no… I stay in the back, yes, but these are all my own recipes. I do everything myself, from scratch.”

“That explains the change in dessert options from last semester.”

“Yup. I suppose so.”

Jack stands up, causing Eric to flinch a little. “You know, you not only increased bake sales here, but you also increased cardio and conditioning for the hockey team.”

“Pardon?”

“They just can’t get enough of this stuff, so now they got to work harder to burn it all off.”

If it wasn’t for the chuckle at the end, Bitty would be once again worried about Jack being mad.

Jack turns back to Eric with a soft smile gracing his face. “They look divine… which should I try first?”

Bitty takes a moment to reply, his shock at the question from Mr. No-desserts-ever freezing him in place. He then rushes to go back behind the counter, while shouting, “Do you like apples!?”

“Yeah.”

“What about maple syrup?”

“Fun fact: I’m Canadian. So yes.”

Bitty laughs and grabs a plate. “How about the maple-crusted apple pie then?”

“Sure, but no plate. Box it plelase. I gotta run. I’m super behind on projects… It’s why I left in a hurry yesterday… sorry about that…”

Bitty nods outwardly, but on the inside, he’s doing a victory dance for _not_ being the cause of Jack leaving early yesterday. “I understand that. Getting close to midterms.”

He grabs a box and looks around for his other coworkers. They all seemed to be preoccupied with this own work, unawares of Bitty and Jack’s interaction. He then secretly cuts a larger slice of pie for Jack.

He then realizes he can’t leave a half-slice portion in the pie tin. So he plates it, handing it to Jack.

“Here, why don’t you try some now?”

“Thanks.”

As Bitty closes up the box, he snaps his head up at the sound of Jack groaning.

“That good?”

Jack nods fervently. He finished off the sample before taking the boxed slice of pie. He pays for it with cash, placing a tip directly into Bitty’s hand, and holding it for a moment, not saying a word.

Bitty takes a second to regain his senses, before deciding to try flirting again.

“You sure you should be eating pie? What about your hockey physique?”

“Fridays are my cheat days,” Jack says with a wink just before he leaves.

Bitty only waits 10 minutes before asking his boss if he can pick up a couple of hours every Friday.

-the end-


End file.
